r/OCPoetry

She wasn’t made
for silent tears
washed away
in shower drains.

She wasn’t made
for fingers that bleed,
raw lips bitten bloody,
desperate to soothe
through pain.

She wasn’t made
for small spaces,
tucking herself tightly,
leaving no room
to breathe.

This wasn’t
what she was made for.

She was meant
for fairytales
whispered gently
beneath midnight skies.

She was meant
for belly laughs
that rumble deep
and shine brightly
within her eyes.

She was meant
for love and peace,
to find happiness
even in the mundane.

She was meant for more.

But in the end,
she was not made
or meant—

she was forged.

-SK

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/npwguB4hso

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/AD5P171koH

You’ve heard as they say! —

On the murky rainy days of November,

It is so that I remember! —

That the skies were neither day nor light,

But such a terrific, haunting sight,

On that very fateful night —

As the brave and cunning folk started a fire,

The courage it took was deadly dire.

"Rather reign a king in hell than a servant in heaven,"

As the ashes spread, by the dark winds driven.

It was under this self-made parole and decree

That the townspeople found their lone exit to be:

To set the whole town on fire,

Down the ancient bridge and spire,

And the courage it took was dire!

The ever so quiet and unsmiling lord,

The self-proclaimed king of this accursed soil,

Could not help but witness the burning coil —

And weep over the sorrow,

Over the tragedy of the small hollow,

Completely overtaken by the scorching fire.

Quickly, the tyrant and then the hero,

Rushed over to the people,

As rain lashed down the tolling steeple,

To help the poor tragedy-stricken town.

But! There is a but! —

As he reached for their hand,

He couldn't let himself simply stand,

And watch the scene,

For the grieving folk, unyielding and stubborn,

Driven by their ancient ideals,

Stopped the galloping horses, and refused his good will.

"Pity to whom the tyrant comes and under whom the tragedy unfolds" —

Under these words the ancient prophecy was foretold,

As the story started to slowly unfold.

The atmosphere gave no familiar hue of the shady deep blue,

But rather a much ominous and grey color,

Which kept the day forever locked in this place.

And oh, when will the restful sleep and night come?

The chaos and social unrest inside the village,

Completely shook the rest of the town as a whole.

And inside the castle there is but a door,

Which slams by the harsh winds and rain on the floor.

A massive death took place,

The fire destroyed all the houses and homes,

And the mothers would decide on their lives of their children,

together with axes or a sword,

Before plunging with their whole body towards the flames.

And our brutal warlord was overcome with sudden waves,

Waves of emotion, and feelings,

And started to weep,

Watching this strange, surreal scene.

The town did not surrender to the capture and siege

Of the brutal soldiers and their lord,

But rather they chose the old familiar selbstmord,

As the fire consumed their entire world.

Then came the brave soldiers through the glows,

And saved the last remaining living souls,

But about the state of the others, nobody knows —

Whether their spirit is resting in a safe heaven space,

Or down the hellish pits of the void place.

Then the refreshing rain washed over all the suffering and the pain,

And let us not tell a word more about those who were slain! —

Their courage, their valor, and sacrifice

Will remain,

Written over all the secret ancient archives,

Hidden, and made eternal by the bloody stain.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/TT7mwtVRYK

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Z9wjQvejpy

Haunted houses belong

In carnival tents

Dressed in red

Shadows up ahead

.

A butcher’s basement

Fog machines hiss

Slabs of raw flesh

Bulge through the mesh

.

Scratch this idea.

Let’s make it clear:

My haunted house

Is far from here

.

My haunted house

Tucked in a cul de sac

An average neighbourhood

Easy to overlook

.

A puppet on strings

I hang by a thread

Cling to the whispers

Of things they’ve said

.

The curtain of false security

Drops almost instantly

A safe haven

Is not as it seems

.

My haunted house

Gathers its victims

Snatches their youth

‘Keep yourself hidden’

.

Mother and father

Husband and wife

Cursed with a child

Resent its life

.

I creep downstairs

The floorboards scream

Holding my breath

Sole lingers above

The very last step

.

Eyes down

No smiling

Don’t frown

.

Too late now

.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/sAIjKCEl1D

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/bIyuYZ6EPB

The bells at three,

My sands run low,

Ding,

Dong,

Ding.

Voices - 'get up',

'It's time to go'.

The rustling breeze,

The clinks of rust,

The dragging sounds,

My feet are cuffed.

My hands arrested,

Behind my thighs,

The grunts,

The heaves,

My time is nigh.

The words escape me when I try to speak,

The priests is singing,

The rites,

The cries,

I hear tears of anger,

At my previous 'crimes'.

The creaking noises,

As I'm chained to bed,

The bed I've 'made',

No tears are shed,

I am told one last time,

'Confess!'

To what, M'Lord?

I say, half jest.

The door starts closing,

The creaking,

I scream.

The pain,

It sears,

The words escape, when I try to speak.

- Inspired by 'Hallowed be thy Name' by Iron Maiden.

Comments:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1ta3m2k/comment/ol6gfqi/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1spryq4/comment/oh8sbgv/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

I wore your name like a love locket
close to my heartbeat -
golden, sacred, eternal.

But time has cruel hands.
It turned every memory of you
into a fragile souvenir
that breaks each time I touch it.

You once said,
“Love is magic.”
And I believed you
the way children believe stars
follow them home.

But magic, I learned,
always asks for something in return.
And the price of loving you
was pieces of myself
I could no longer afford to lose.

Now sometimes
I just want to close my eyes
and return to the version of me
that still carried wonder in her pockets
the child-hearted soul
who loved without fear
and trusted without counting scars.

I wish someone would hold my shaking thoughts
and whisper softly:

“You will rise beyond the weight
they tried to place on your shoulders.
You are beautiful
in every shape your soul survives in.
Do not let people
who are strangers to self-love
teach you what love should feel like.

Because control is not devotion.
Possession is not protection.
And needing you
is not the same as loving you.”

And somewhere between
my forever
and your temporary,
“we” disappeared.

When did 'us' became only 'me'?

Maybe It was from the first...until I realised the player was only u...and not me..

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tdn3xk/comment/olx0zia/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tdhq2z/comment/olx0rpq/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

I opened my bookshelf.
The doors groaned with a gothic sound,
as if they wished to remain closed.

Inside lay a book with a black cover,
dark as the deepest hour of night.
When I opened it, it laughed—
these were the chapters of my life.

I picked another book,
its cover amber, like the sun fading at the horizon.
Inside were my sins,
quietly devouring the light of my heart.

Another book waited,
covered in grey—
a sky where the day had been eclipsed.
Its pages held my despair.

Then I opened a white book,
smooth as a pearl, shining with borrowed purity.
Suddenly maggots crawled from its pages.
It was the book of my good deeds,
the ones I performed only for the eyes of the world.

I closed the bookshelf.

And then my heart stopped beating.

Because the bookshelf
was my heart.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/hnJUHejeKY

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Nu1xAmayKA

 Break the sheet of strangeness -The one that divides us
Reach me from across the way
I'm a guest, I'm a host, a dream, a nightmare
My pace might not match yours
Lets pretend it might all be the same
Interrupt the static and form the image
Inside the screen of these feelings

Cut open the riddle with knife and fork- prepare to digest
Splash the sauce of reason
lets sit down to eat
Eat a piece of me
God let me eat a piece of you
let's pretend it might all be the same
That your flesh might taste like mine

Break the wall that separates us- smash it with the force of your inner chaos
Let light in so things can grow off it 
Discover my exquisite hungers
Slowly uncover my skin
See how I bleed into your reality
How I linger through empty spaces
Even when I'm not there at all

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tje42f/comment/on0tqcy/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tj88g9/comment/on0u8mp/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Two beers became vodka,

the devil wore her eyes.

She’d been staring for a year

tonight she finally claimed her prize.

Clothes hit the floor like surrender,

my first time, raw and blind.

It felt divine for a moment,

like someone still wanted what’s left of my mind.

But when she moved on top,

pain cut through the haze

like my body was warning me

this wasn’t the escape.

Morning came cruel and quiet,

the high already turning gray.

A text on the screen: “Monday again.”

My stomach twisted either way.

Now the flashbacks hit when I close my eyes,

her mouth, the heat, the blur.

Part of me wants to run it back,

another part whispers: what the fuck are you man?

I killed the lover boy to survive,

burned him slow in the flame.

Yet here I am chasing the same hunger,

just wearing a different name.

Friends say they don’t recognize me.

I smile cold and say nothing back.

How do I explain the violence it took

just to keep standing after the attack? 

Links.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tjes7f/break_through_to_know_me/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tjdj6h/behind_myself/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Her
Sitting here in the dark again,
connecting every little string in bed,
spending most my nights alone,
regretting everything I’ve ever said.
Longing for something real for once,
always feeling miles away.

Where’s that vibrant little girl?
Where is she today?
Her head is in a whirl,
wondering if I look okay.
She never did that before.
Why is that all I’m worried about?
she used to play and sing and dance all day;
now life is just a chore.

Can I bring her back?
Back to who she used to be.
She’s been pretending for so long;
no one told her there’d be a price to pay
for just simply being me.

In this world nothing is ever free,
how can she afford to come back?
Back again,
back to the world she once lived in,
back to when her only concern
wasn’t if I fit within-
within the box of who to be:
her or me.

If only I could go back
back to her,
back to me?
but that’s only possible in her dreams.

So she sits
connecting every string,
and thinking over everything.
Till the sunrise,
it creeps in,
and she’s forced to become me once more,
as she walks out the door.

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading!! This is probably a little choppy cause I just wrote this in bed rn cause I can’t sleep. Planning on refining it in the morning, but I’m looking for feedback before I do that so anything thing helps!! Thank you!!

Feedback:
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/UNyPx3LpHq

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/lR8vqGY5Pm

Scattered across the highways
Built by broken honest men
Crisscrossing cracks and fissures
Weathered blacktop pavement

The ramblers come a rolling
Chasing lightning down the stretch
Its fickle visage calling
Craze-eyed strangers heaven bent

Each flash a clash no thunder brings
No raucous roar to hear
Save for the steady thrum of engines
Rattle clutches, shifting gears

Deadeye to the horizon
Prophets’ promise flickers fast
Speeders hang their faith on motion
Willing God that it can last

Haven’t written poetry since high school but was listening to Springsteen and thinking about a friend’s crisis of faith and this came out. Chat give it straight, can we rhyme in poems these days or is it not en vogue?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/a2bAMwPYTU

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Hh9pBxqlTi

I write to get it out of my system

I write to remove my anger, to expel my ugliness

I write to get over things, to let the past remain the past

I have written about you thousands of times. I have written poems, stories, letters, and essays on the subject of your eyes, your laughter, your soul.

I have written about the freckles on your face and your dolphin-sounding laugh. I have written about your sneakers and the intricacies of your heart. I have written your name on my notepad so many times that the movement is a second nature to my hand.

But you have not left. You are still there, in the back of my mind and the front of my heart. You are still there in every thought, in every hope and wish that I have. You are my life, my purpose, my meaning. Maybe I wrote about you so much that the poems, stories, letters, and essays have been engraved onto the hands I write with and the brain that I craft with. You puppeteered the strings of my heart using thread made out of the paper that I crafted you with.

I should've written you in pencil, not pen.

Comments:
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tja7wz/what_it_was/
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tjck0p/bright_god/

i don’t look like you, i don’t think

that is to say

i can’t picture you, even with my eyes closed
every image of you wavers like a scarf in wind
even when i sleep
that colored silk is a haze over your face, over mine

i often wonder
if you’d recognize me
if i walked past you on the street

when i was a child you’d look and look and look at me
your watery blue eyes searching, always that secret test i will never pass but will always try

i don’t look like you at all
and once you stole my lipstick
the one that smelled like banana
painting in the fluorescent bathroom mirror

blue eyes (mine are hazel)
blue eyes on me, again on me in the mirror
turning your head from side to side
“i’m still beautiful” you say, and i nod and nod

your feet and hands crack in the winter
deep gashes, chasms on your heels
so that i could see the angry, quivering flesh of your feet
you’d bleed, they’d bleed

each pounding, seeking, heated footstep
as you looked for us
thump thump
as we hid
and as i kept the little ones quiet, listening for the tone, the shape of each of your steps
the weeping-bloody language of
thump thump

i’d think
thump
does that step hurt you?
thump thump
did that one?

there are days
when every face i pass on the street is yours
there are days
when the scarf over our face blows so close it floods my mouth
that i think- it’s december
does this step hurt you?

maybe i am blind, to think anything i write
anything i hold in my cracking hands
could ever be about anything
could ever look like anything
but you

************************************************

thank you all for the great feedback on my last poem :) here’s another that i’m workshopping- any and all feedback or comments are welcome!

feedback i’ve given:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/qAQcggu4sH

https://www.reddit.com/r/poetry\_critics/s/sw4ttmTeUJ

Walking with an unstretched hand

Cold air seeping into its wrinkles

Just slightly warmed by the lining of my jacket  

The seat next to me occupied by a bag

Once filled with laughter

And wanting to miss another turn  

I look up into an uninhabited sky

Lay on the grass, where our hair tangled together

Intertwined like what we thought of the future,  

As my bitter hand clings to the hope our turn will come again

Comments:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Y0BlmmSwz1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/lLZaCbRPfg

I wrote it to understand,
not to confess.

Sent it to see
what it would stir.

She read it crying.

Called it madness.
Beauty in the madness.

I call it clarity.
The quiet ordering of chaos.

A way to trace
why every thought
bent toward her.

She may call it acceptance.
Not order.
Not solving.
Just seeing it
and not turning away.

Same obsession.
Different name.

I try to map it.
She lives inside it.

She said she always loved reading poetry
because the writers feel
the same type of fucked up as her.

Same type.
Different wiring.

I move toward chaos
to feel awake.
She builds structure
to survive it.

One looks for clarity in the chaos.
The other finds beauty
in the madness.

Both staring at the same fire
from opposite sides.

Not fixing it.
Not fleeing it.

Just recognizing
the silhouette of it
in each other.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1qg2bvw/comment/omxqqdk/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tin30q/comment/omxsjak/

Her name is Angelica.

Shes me but she's not.

Wispy eyelashes.

Chocolate brown hair that curls up at the edges.

Smells of floral and Weeping Willow leaves.

The edges of her aura are faded like a dream.

And she lives within my mind.

Tucked safe between the seams.

She's got a certain something.

Something I've long forgotten.

Her voice is far away.

A few feet underwater.

Her eyes are never glossy.

And she's a better daughter.

Angelica, angel, how much i wish to be her.

Until then, i hope for when,

And behind my eyes i dream her.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/WXvGZeyq8b

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/q748S7l7UD

Hero

A fateful day of April, 
Disaster struck the sulci of a city and
Buildings became ablaze - a furnace of suffering.
One passerby yelped, “Someone save us!”
Another cried, “Help me, please!”

But no one came. No hero or caped crusader.
No warrior or friendly protector.
The streets remained empty as if it were abandoned,
The only sign of life being a desperate call for hope
That heralded no hero.

And soon the buildings were annihilated
Alongside the once-lively inhabitants, burned and scorched
Into a mangled mess of charred slop and bone. 
Survivors tried to move on like ocean tides, 
But their own memories too remain the seared residue of a 

Comic book page that refuses to close. 
The hero, despite once being an omnipresent protector,
Was never seen again.
The blistered buildings became a monument
To honour those who fell by negligence,

As over time, the people pondered whether the burning stove was the problem or
It was the hero.

Note: Thank you if you take time to give advice, criticisms or some uplifting feedback - I really appreciate it. If you want to know the meaning behind it just ask, I'm happy to share.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1titf33/comment/omx7le0/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tii3ok/comment/omx4hl6/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Mother tells me not to pick at my skin

Shedding my youth as I

Pick

Unravelling the seams woven within

Exposing the nail to the cross

Mother tells me to try hard

Riddle my palms with callouses

Gnawing through my naivety

But never should I

Pick

Mother tells me to be clean

Smooth flesh cladding a pure soul

No protrusions disrupting the mannequin

So I

Pick

Tearing my body so I can be

Whole

Melting my innocence

So I can set it in the mold

Pick

Feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tirkv2/in_the_language_of_decay/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tisal1/i_dream_of_lace_and_ribbons/

One day I will be alone,
Holding the "nothing" you thought I cherished,
only this feeling will remain.
After I cast everything aside,
When I have nothing left to burn,
to tear asunder,
to mourn o'er,
and I have no one left to punish,
no one left to demonize or deify.
It will be me,
driving nails through my feet.

Feedback
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tj36u3/comment/omyr6ek/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tiz4fq/comment/omyrjhg/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Pretty proud of this one, though would still like any feedback cause I like hearing the thoughts of others

"Sapphire Oceans and Amethyst Sky.
Seeking answers from a name that's died.
Forgotten photos and half baked renders.
A past longing to be remembered.

All the tapes unwound and tangled,
Memories memories lie here mangled.
Cameras discarded without their lens,
Empty is the inkwell and gone is the pen.

The brush is dry the bristles frayed,
The painting never to be displayed,
Of Sapphire Oceans and Amethyst Sky.
If only the name of the one who died."

Feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tii3ok/comment/omx71q2/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1tiwb6n/comment/omxbuf5/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Lilies

Of course I’ll buy you flowers
Wrapped in plastic
With the string tied

Not because I’m meant to
Says the gurus
In the ink typed

Not to make you stay
Though I hope I’ll always hold you
And your grip stays forever tight

Don’t see it as repayment
For coming to my darkness
To show me there’s a thin light

Or leading me to the shore
When I couldn’t see
The near tide

But because I hope you’ll smile
Not for me but deep inside
Where, in that moment, you’re free

My love can’t be weighed in petals
When leaves decay with time
So lilies hold no power

But if they guaranteed a smile
Every day
I’d shop for flowers

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/t0ddnoHwkO

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/pnu8g1MLpY